GerIta One-Shot Series
by ZeFandomKat
Summary: This is a one-shot series for the pairing GerIta from Hetalia. Most of these will be fluffy, but I will write some angst. I hope you enjoy them! Rated T to be safe, but probably just K.
1. Lots of Picnics

Hello! This is the first part of a oneshot series for the pairing GerIta from Hetalia that I'm writing! I've also posted these on Wattpad, so don't be confused by that. Most of the time the stories will be fluffy, but I will write angst occasionally. I hope you like them!

**Lots of Picnics**

The sun gazed lazily upon the small hill, giving it enough warmth so that it wasn't chilly when the wind blowed across the grass. There were a few flowers, mostly Cornflowers and Dandelions, and the attractive flowers added a delicate, peaceful feeling to the atmosphere that surrounded the two people perched on top of the small slope.

To anyone looking in on the two, they would have immediately noticed the ecstatic over exuberance of one and the quiet happiness of the other. They looked quite the mismatched pair; the kind of couple that not many people would ever believe being together, but lo-and-behold, there they were.

"Ludwig Ludwig Ludwig," the shorter of the two cried, grabbing onto his companion's arm as he essentially jumped up and down in excitement.

The taller man, Ludwig, sighed, looking down at the man (and he was a man, not a child) by his side. "What is it Feliciano?"

Feliciano smiled happily, before bouncing to his feet and running down the hill. Ludwig watched his chestnut-haired partner as he giggled and nearly slipped once. This was a regular occurrence with the Italian man, and, to be honest, Ludwig loved hearing him laugh abundantly with glee. Of course, Feliciano laughed quite often, but sometimes Ludwig could tell that it was fake or forced. So, when an opportunity came for them to have a day off, and away from their bosses and all of their pressing work (not that Feliciano worked much anyway), they gladly seized it.

Today they were having a picnic in Baden-Württemberg, a federal state in Southern Germany. All around them there was beautiful countryside, and Ludwig drank the sight in, reveling in being surrounded by nature and in the company of the person most important to him. The nation (And they are nations, Ludwig being Germany and Feliciano being Northern Italy) didn't often feel this relaxed, as he constantly had to deal with other things, like work.

Feliciano, however, was busy running around in the flowers, thoroughly fascinated with their loveliness. He had Cornflowers in his homeland as well, but he knew them by a different name.

"Germany, these flowers are so beautiful! Molto carino e colorato*! Aren't these blue ones your national flower?" He inquired, finally finishing his thought from earlier. He had gotten a bit distracted by all of the lovely flowers.

Germany smiled, and nodded his head in affirmation. "Yes, that is correct Italy. The Cornflower is my national flower, even though some people consider it a weed. But it is my understanding that you call them something else?"

Italy nodded, smiling brilliantly and the flora around him. "Sì! I call it Fiordaliso! But lately it's been more and more rare, and it makes me sad to see it go."

The blond nation beckoned Italy over to him, and remarked as he walked back over, "Well, it is still abundant here, so whenever you come over you are welcome to visit them. Now come on, it is time to eat this food," He pointed to the basket on the blanket he was currently residing on. Italy jumped in joy, and hurriedly sat down besides his lover.

"Yay, I brought pasta!" Italy exclaimed, quickly pulling out plates and dishing out food for the two. Germany observed him, smiling in exasperated affection at the other's antics. When Italy offered him a plate, he accepted and began to eat, noting that, although Italy always prepared pasta, at least it was delicious.

Italy dug in with much more gusto than his companion, and with much less reserve. He slurped up the noodles, smiling in contentment as the flavors washed over his tongue. Pasta was one of the Italian's main loves, right alongside Germany and siestas. Mmm, maybe he would do that later; take a siesta out here with Germany, underneath the warm, blue sky.

He finished his pasta quickly, looking over at his lover to see if he had finished as well. He hadn't. Italy should have known, the German was never one to rush things. Feliciano leaned over and rested against Germany's shoulder as he continued eating. He began to mess with his slicked back blond hair, wanting to dishevel the neatly arranged locks. Italy loved to see him with his hair hanging across his face, so when he woke up in the mornings (after nights Italy spent over), he would just look at Germany a moment before getting up to get breakfast. The only thing that could move the Italian from sleep: food.

Now, as he was mussing with his hair, Germany rolled his eyes and finished eating, putting their plates back into the basket. Italy immediately dragged him down onto the blanket with him, and snuggled up against the German's side.

"I'm glad we could come here Germany," Italy mumbled, leaning over to kiss his lover quickly before curling up to take a nap.

"Me too, Italia," Germany replied, and smiled gently when he heard the Italian's steady breathing. Perhaps they should take the time to have picnics more often.

*Very nice and colorful! -Italian


	2. Hands are Interesting

Here is the second oneshot for the GerIta series! Also, if you have any requests, please feel free to ask me! I ship just about every pairing in Hetalia (Except for ones involving Germany and Italy with other people) so don't be afraid to ask!

**Hands are Interesting**

Germany sat down on the couch, looking forward to finally relaxing by reading a nice book after a long day of work. It wasn't that it was hard, more that there had just been a lot of paperwork to fill out, and then he had had to deal with his boss's rant about this and that. Germany was tired of dealing with other people, so for the time being he simply wanted to lose himself in Steppenwolf*.

He had just gotten to the second chapter when he heard the pitter-patter of small feet from behind him. Germany decided that it probably wasn't that important and just continued reading (It was a really good book). He didn't look up when the feet were in front of him, and he didn't even look up when there was sudden added weight to the seat beside him. In fact, Germany didn't pay any attention the figure sitting by him.

That is, until the figure decided to remedy that.

Germany was only using one hand to prop the book open and flip the pages, leaving the other to simply rest by his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a slim, tan hand reach out and grip his own large, pale hand tightly. Germany liked the warmth that it provided, but didn't ponder it past that point. This, apparently, wasn't what the person had wanted, and they began to stroke small circles on the back of Germany's large hand with their comparably small thumb.

It was at this point that Germany looked over, just for a second, at his couch partner. Of course, it was Italy. He had recognized him by the color and shape of his hand. That was why he hadn't pushed the hand off- Germany wanted to not hurt his lover's feelings. And, well, the gentle strokes he was rubbing into his hand felt really good.

Germany expected Italy to let go of his hand once he had gotten the larger nation's attention, but this proved to be incorrect. When he looked at his lover's face, Germany was confused by the fascination that he saw there. Italy usually had a smile on his face, or a laugh on his lips, but this was an expression that Germany had rarely seen before. It was the look that Italy reserved for things like a new type of pasta, a magnificent piece of art newly created, or beautiful sunsets that left the world breathless. Germany never thought that he would see that lovely look directed towards him.

Germany wanted to say something, wanted to ask what intrigued Italy so much, but the words died in his throat before he could say them. The reason for this being that Italy had flipped their hands over so that they were palms up, and had begun to trace the lines on Germany's palm, awe still written clearly across his face. The chocolate brown eyes were shining with love and amazement, and his wayward auburn curl was curled into a heart (Germany idly wondered somewhere off in the recesses of his mind how it was able to do that). Italy seemed heavily intent on...whatever it exactly was he was doing, and Germany couldn't bring himself to interrupt what was going on inside of his mind since he looked so *Deep breathe, Germany*..._cute_. He was downright adorable to Germany, and at the same time he was incredibly handsome. The blond nation couldn't decide whether he was upset that someone could be both, instead of the usual one, or happy that this joyful person was his. So he settled for absolutely blanking of emotion as he stared at Italy, who glanced up at him after another minute of this routine.

"What is it, Germany?" Italy inquired, gazing up at him in a way that left his eyelashes framing his eyes, and Germany couldn't help internally comparing him to a kitten. Even if Germany was more of a dog person himself, he couldn't help but think that it was, once again, adorable. (Germany would never admit any of this out loud; he just knew that Prussia would tease him for the rest of eternity if he knew his brother had such a soft spot for cute things *Usually Italy is the only cute thing, but if Germany spots a puppy odds are that he would grin wider than a child at Christmas.*.)

Coming back to earth, Germany managed to not stutter his question. "I was just wondering what you are doing?"

Hearing this, Italy smiled, and giggled softly. "I'm looking at your hand Germany!"

The Aryan nation resisted the urge to groan out of mild frustration at his lover and instead clarified his point. "I mean, why are you doing that?"

Italy tilted his head to the side (Now he looks like a puppy!) and smiled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Because hands are interesting! Especially your hands, Germany."

"...What?" Germany asked, not really knowing what to make of Italy's answer. Hands are interesting? But they're just appendages, just something on the ends of everyone's arms that allowed them to do things. Some people didn't even have hands, due to one thing or another. Sure, it was sad when that happened, but other than that Germany didn't really see anything special about hands at all.

Seeing that his lover didn't understand his meaning, Italy sighed and tried to explain. "Yes, hands are very interesting! They tell us so many things about the people they belong to! Like how much work they do, what type of work they do, if they're artistic, if they're neat and tidy, if they're strong or not, and many other things! They tell us stories about that person's life, like if they have a bunch of little scars along their fingers like this," Here Italy held up his right hand to Germany's eye-level, and Germany was able to see that Italy had a lot of tiny scars all around the edges of his fingers. "That means they cook a lot! Because even people with lots of practice can still be burned sometimes, and beginners are even more prone to accidently burn themselves! And if they have callouses on their pointer and middle fingers, that means that they likely play an instrument! And sometimes you're able to tell what people might be good at based on their hands. Like people with long fingers are more likely to do well at playing the piano, and people with wide hands are more likely to be strong and well balanced. There are just an extraordinary amount of things that hands can tell us!"

Germany was slightly stunned by Italy's passionate speech (Usually he only talked that passionately either when he wanted pasta, wanted to stop training to take a siesta, or if he was trying to convince Germany to do something with him.), but at the same time he realized that it made a lot of sense. Hands did tell a lot about a person. He was proud to say the least that Italy was able to pick up on that. There was one thing still mystifying Germany, however...

"You said that my hands are particularly interesting, Italy," Germany murmurred, unsure of what was going to come from the Italian's mouth next.

Germany's book lay long forgotten on the floor.

Italy smiled happily and nodded, bringing Germany's hand up to his face and planting kisses on it. "Sì! Your hand is so big and warm, so that lets me know that you're strong and that you have a steady body temperature, because you lose heat from your hands, feet, and head. It also has a lot of callouses, from you cleaning, training, and working all the time. That lets me know that you're a hard worker," Here Italy smiled almost cheekily up at Germany. "Although I already knew that. And then, the last reason why I find your hands so interesting is that..." Italy stopped talking, glancing off to the side with a blush on his face before facing Germany once again. Germany wondered what would make Italy do that, especially while they were on such a subject.

Italy gently took _both_ of Germany's hands in his own, cradling them tenderly as if they meant the world to him. "These are your hands. These are the hands that have wiped away my tears, these are the hands that keep me safe, the ones that hold my face tenderly when you kiss me, the ones that grab my waist when you kiss me _more. _These are the hands of the person I love," Italy smiled blearily up at Germany, eyes glistening from the emotion of the moment. "I love these hands because they're your hands, Germany."

Germany's breathe caught in his throat, and before he knew it he had pulled the other man into his arms and was cradling him, cupping his face in his hands and kissing every part of his face that he could reach. Italy started to giggle, and Germany knew right then that he wasn't going to be reading any more of that book for a while. Which was alright, since Germany didn't really want to read right then anyways.

*A German book that is written by Hermann Hesse. It is a poetical self-portrait that is about a man who felt himself to be half human and half wolf.


	3. German Lullaby

Once again, here's another oneshot! These won't come out so quickly once I've caught up to where I am on Wattpad, but eh. Oh, and if you happen to speak any of the foreign languages I include in my stories and you notice a mistake, please correct me.

**German Lullaby**

It was quiet all throughout the house as Italy slowly blinked his eyes open. The sunlight was slowly filtering in through the spaces in the curtains, landing softly upon the Italian as he awoke to the world at last. Italy didn't really feel like getting up- it was Saturday after all- but he also knew that the sooner he got up to face the day, the sooner he could once again be in the presence of his lover.

_Germany_.

Italy smiled at the thought of his blonde partner. To almost everyone else in the world, humans and countries alike, he was a stern individual with no patience for anything but work. Italy, however, counted himself as one of the lucky few who knew the truth- that the Germanic nation was really a sweet, shy person who wasn't the best at articulating his feelings, but was undoubtedly one of the best friends you could ever have. He was always willing to lend a helping friend to those close to him (He had certainly done so for Italy on numerous occasions), and offered a calming presence whenever one found themselves stressed or anxious. Germany would then proceed to, after the person (Usually Italy) had calmed down, help to methodically sort out the problem.

Not only was he a great friend, but he was also (and Italy prided himself on being perhaps the only person who knew this) a great lover. He wasn't incredibly romantic, like France, or over the top, like America. He wasn't as sure of himself as Spain, and he didn't exude charisma like Romano did (at least towards people he liked/didn't know). In fact, he was rather timid and unsure, which is unlike his intimidating physique would lead you to believe. Whenever Italy kissed him or hugged him close he would blush. Germany wasn't too fond of public displays of affection; if Italy so much as held his hand while out of the house he would turn red and splutter a little. It wasn't that he wasn't good at things like that; rather, he was just simply uncomfortable with it all, seeing as he was a naturally introverted person (at least to some extent). Italy didn't really mind this, however; after all, it was simply the way Germany was, and Italy loved Germany immensely. So it didn't matter if he wasn't the country of _amore_. Plus, Italy thought it was cute when the usually serious nation grew pink like a carnation.

As Italy finally got up and began to get ready for the day, he pondered something that had bothered him for a little while. While he was perfectly happy with knowing about Germany's softer side (Don't get him wrong, Germany _was_ strict and stern. He just had other aspects to his personality.), no one else really knew about it. To some degree he was selfishly pleased with this, but on the same token he wanted the world to see Germany the way that Italy saw him; as someone with a tough exterior and a warm, kind interior. Japan, Prussia, Hungary, and Austria knew about this- after all, they were the countries closest to Germany besides Italy- but it wasn't really enough. Italy wanted everyone to appreciate Germany the way that he thought Germany should be appreciated. He wanted his love to be recognized for not just his work ethic, but his heart as well.

Italy was still thinking about this even after he had finished with his morning shower, making his way down the stairs. He remembered many instances in which he had felt that the other nations had been (intentionally or not), insulting his beloved. One such occurrence had happened not too long ago at a world meeting...

_ Italy was walking alongside Germany after the meeting had finished. It had been hosted by France this turn-a-round, and had been as long and boring as ever. Even the arguments and squabbles between England and France had seemed dull, which didn't truly come as a surprise since the two were constantly bickering. Italy himself had almost fallen asleep twice: once when China had been droning on and on about pollution and his economy (Pointed looks had been thrown at America here, who had ignored them as usual.), and once when Switzerland had been making an incredibly long speech about how he was still neutral and would beat whoever dared cross his land uninvited with his peace prize (He had seemed to be glaring in Italy's direction when he had managed to wake himself up, but that was probably just his sleepy mind making things up again). _

_ Germany, of course, had had no problems about staying awake at all (He'd even managed to take down a plethora of notes, of which Italy would no doubt be copying later), and had gently shaken Italy alert both times he had almost drifted off. To Italy, it didn't seem entirely fair that he wasn't allowed to sleep when Greece was, but he decided not to push it._

_ He had noticed that many of the other nations were just as disgruntled as Italy had been, so he gathered that no one had been particularly enthralled by the meeting either. So it came as a surprise when laughter had burst from behind the pair._

_ Italy, of course, turned around immediately, eager to know the reason for such glee during a period of such boredom. Germany turned around with more hesitancy, and most likely wouldn't have turned back at all if Italy's sudden about face hadn't caused him to follow suit._

_ The source of the laughter stemmed from the host himself, France. He was grinning widely and raising an eyebrow suggestively at a grinning Spain and struggling Romano, who were in the middle of one of their strange hugs. (Spain hugging Romano tightly while Romano fought in vain to distance himself away from the happy country.)_

_ "Oh, you two, you look to be in such amour that I can barely stand it!" He placed his hand to his forehead dramatically, signalling his inability to cope with the couple's "lovey-doveyness"._

_ "Lay off you French Bastard! And get off of me you Tomato Bastard!" Romano snarled, redoubling his efforts to escape. Spain, however, simply laughed and gripped Italy's brother closer._

_ "Lovi, why do you try to deny it? Te amo mucho, Lovi! My little Tomate!" Here Spain even tried to rub his face against Romano's, but it seemed as if he was having very little success. Knowing Romano, though, Italy could pick out the blush on his cursing brother's face. He giggled quietly, happy to know that his brother was happy, even if he wouldn't show it to the rest of the world. Spain knew this as well, which is why he didn't take offense to Romano's jibes and name-calling. That was simply the way Romano was. _

_ France cooed at the couple, and England decided at that moment to appear. It seemed that he was summoned whenever France was even somewhat messing with people. "What are you doing to people now, frog?! Why don't you leave them alone!"_

_ Sighing theatrically, France turned to England as Romano voiced his agreement. "Because they are in amour! Even though Romano tries to hide his affections for our dear Spain, he really does feel deeply for him underneath!" He quickly turned and pointed at Romano's once again scarlet cheeks. "See? He even blushes, undeniable proof! If he were to be like…" Here, France paused, and his eyes roamed the rapidly emptying hall as if trying to find something. His gaze fell upon Germany and Italy, and his eyes lit up. "Germany!"_

_ "What?" Germany asked warily, not really wanting to be a part of this conversation._

_ France strode over to the pair, and Italy smiled up at him even though he was unsure of what the country of love was doing. After all, it couldn't be that bad, and even if it was, Italy felt safe knowing that Germany was right there to protect him._

_ France turned back to face England, Spain, and Romano and gestured to Germany. "If Romano was like Germany, unable to feel the effects of amour, then he wouldn't blush!"_

_ The effect was instantaneous. Italy felt Germany stiffen beside him, and Italy himself couldn't help but feel a vague trace of...anger? Irritation? Whatever it was, it made Italy frown up at France. He could just tell it was an insult to his german. _

_ Germany cleared his throat and said, "Pardon?" To everyone else, they would hear the phrase in his normal stiff, stern tone. But Italy was able to hear the beginnings of hurt in his lover's voice. This made sense to Italy, as Germany was always very self-conscious about his loving tendencies and his ability to be a good partner. This made Italy feel even more defensive for Germany, but he hid it beneath the usual smile and airy expression he knew the other nations associated with him._

_ "Well, it's obvious really! I am sorry, L'Allemagne, but it is apparent to all of the rest of the world that you neglect your poor little Italy in the department of love!" France declared, placing a hand over his heart in apparent horror._

_ Germany blushed as England smacked France upside the head. "You wanker, you can't just say that to people!"_

_ Romano nearly launched himself at the Germanic nation, Spain barely managing to hold the fiery Italian back. "You bastard! You better be treating my brother right or I'll beat the crap out of you!" At this, Germany blushed even darker and started to slowly walk away from the group, but Italy held him back by placing a hand on his arm. _

_ "Big Brother France, where did you get that idea?" Italy asked innocently (that's what they thought), and tilted his head to the side. "Germany is so very kind to me, and he always gives me the best hugs and kisses~" Germany glanced at him quickly, picking up on Italy's less than happy mood, and tried once again to walk away, this time attempting to take Italy with him, but surprisingly Italy was able to stand his ground. (On the inside, he was groaning with the strain of withstanding his lover's strength, and not even the brunt of it, but Germany's honor was at stake.)_

_ France snorted, rubbing the back of his head where England hit him and flashing him a quick glare. "Well, mon ami, he never does anything with you! He never even holds your hand!" He gestured towards their hands, which were indeed not connected. Italy quickly reached over and grabbed his boyfriend's hand, intwinging their fingers and pretending he didn't notice the uncomfortable look in Germany's eyes. Just a moment longer._

_ Smiling, Italy replied in his bubbly voice, "Ve~Well, I guess your wrong. But in any case, it's not really your business, Big Brother France, and Germany and I have to go eat pasta now! Addio!" Pulling Germany along with him, Italy pranced off, ignoring the other nations' confused expressions behind him. He did manage to hear the last little bit said by France, however._

_ "Did...Did he just tell me that it's not my business?" He seemed amazed that Italy could be so blunt and rude (because, for Italy, this was the equivalent of screaming and cussing someone out). _

_ Italy giggled a little internally, but once he and Germany were in their car he turned to his lover and gripped his hand tightly. "Germany, I am sorry for the way I acted, I know you were embarressed, but I just couldn't help myself when they spoke of you in such a way~!"_

_ Germany sighed, his blush finally retreating to a small pink glow. "It's alright Italy. I know how I feel about you, and they can't change that. Let's just go home, alright? I have to walk Aster, Berlitz, and Blackie soon anyway."_

_ Italy nodded, smiling. "Okay! Oh! Oh! We have to eat pasta before you do, though, okay?" He bounced up and down a little, giving Germany the puppy dog face he knew he couldn't resist. _

_ As expected, Germany sighed before agreeing with a slight smile. And then the two were off, choosing to forget about the encounter with France for awhile while they ate pasta and played with the dogs. _

Italy sighed as he reached the bottom of the stairs. That had been one of the instances that led to a little period of time where Germany was even more awkward and hesitant around Italy than usual. Italy knew that it had been because Germany thought that he wasn't a good enough companion for him. During these times Italy always reassured Germany that that was indeed not the case. In fact, last night Germany had finally believed him again, and returned to normal.

_Last night_...Italy blushed at the thought.

As he was walking into the living room, he could smell something coming from the kitchen. Whatever it was, it smelled really good, especially since Italy was quite hungry, having not eaten in hours. So he padded towards the kitchen, knowing that it must be where Germany had wandered off to that morning. But as he drew closer, he began to hear something other than the clinking of pans and plates. Italy slowed down, tip-toeing now as he stepped next to the slightly ajar door. No doubt about it, it was definitely a voice, and Germany's voice that. Italy would recognize that deep baritone anywhere.

But Germany wasn't just talking, it almost seemed as if he was...singing? Italy peeked into the kitchen through the crack in the door, and what he saw almost made him giggle in happiness.

There was Germany before the oven, wearing his black undershirt and blue night shorts. He had yet to comb his hair, so it hung partly in his face, and, as Italy watched, he saw him push it out of his eyes a couple of times in annoyance. He seemed to be making, as far as Italy could tell, a traditional German breakfast; there was sausage, and several cold meats, as well as some sweet jams, soft boiled eggs, cheeses, and some fruit. There were a couple of little dishes filled with honey and marmalde. Germany himself was just sprinkling some sesame seeds onto some Brötchen, small bread, before he put it into the oven. He had even made some Italian apple and raisen strudel, something Italy had taught him a while back. But that wasn't what truly drew most of his attention- although Italy was loving the smells gracing his senses and couldn't wait to eat. No, what made Italy smile brightly was the fact that Germany was gently singing a lullaby.

Italy knew that it was a lullaby because he recognized it as one Germany had sung to him before when he was too scared to fall asleep. The blue eyed nation would gently wrap Italy in his strong arms and rock the crying country soothingly, singing softly into his ear to calm him down. It always worked; Italy's sobs would quiet to just a few sniffles and hiccups, and then eventually he would be silent, growing drowsy as he listened to and felt the vibrations through Germany's broad chest as he serenaded the Italian. Italy loved Germany's voice; it was so deep and rumbly, yet smooth and vibrant at the same time. As an appreciator of the arts, Italy could tell that Germany was a musical individual.

As far as Italy knew, however, he was one of five people who had ever heard Germany sing. The other four consisted of the other nations who knew about Germany's softer side: Prussia (Germany's brother), Austria (Germany's musical mentor), Hungary, and Japan. Even then, most of them had only heard it on occasion, though Japan had confided to Italy, once, that it was some of the best singing he had ever heard. Of course, German was a language that was constantly sung in many other countries, like America and England, but they hadn't heard Germany _specifically_ sing. Which could have been one of the things Italy added to the list of 'Things that the World Should Know about my Germany', but concerning this particular matter, Italy was happy to have Germany's talents all to himself.

"_Guten Abend, gut' Nacht  
Mit Rosen bedacht  
Mit Näglein besteckt_  
_Schlüpf unter die Deck'  
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will  
Wirst du wieder geweckt  
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will  
Wirst du wieder geweckt."_

Italy closed his eyes as the familiar tune washed over him, carried to him by the rich tones of Germany's voice. He wasn't entirely sure what the words meant, even though Germany had told him once. But in Italy's defense that had been a while ago, and really, he couldn't be expected to remember it since he had been half asleep at the time. But in any case, it was soothing, and brought a smile to his lips.

"_Guten Abend, gut' Nacht  
Von Englein bewacht  
Die zeigen im Traum  
Dir Christkindleins Baum  
Schlaf nun selig und süß  
Schau im Traum 's Paradies  
Schlaf nun selig und süß  
Schau im Traum 's Paradies."_

Germany finished singing the last line, and miraculously, just as he did so, the timer went off to signify that the breat in the oven was done. Italy was saddened to hear the end of the music, but his pain was lessened by the prospect of eating finally. And also, as Germany exited the kitchen to go wake Italy and bumped into said nation, Italy's smile grew even better as he listened to his lover's stutterings of "How long have you been there?" and watched the blush slowly travel up his cheeks. Maybe the fact that no one else knew this side of Germany wasn't a bad thing. After all, it meant that there would be more for him.

Translation for **Guten Abend und gute Nacht!**

Good evening, goodnight,  
Covered with roses  
Adorned with thorns  
Slip under the covers  
Tomorrow, if it is God's will,  
Will you wake again  
Tomorrow, if it is God's will,  
Will you wake again

Good evening, goodnight,  
Watched over by angels  
In a dream they show you  
The Christ-child's tree  
Sleep blessed and sweetly  
Look for paradise in your dream  
Sleep blessed and sweetly  
Look for paradise in your dream

(Music by Johannes Brahms. Text from _Des Knaben Wunderhorn_)


	4. Cioccolata Calda o Heiße Schokolade

Hayo! Here's another oneshot! I hope you like it, it was actually a request from someone on Wattapad.

**Cioccolata Calda o Heiße Schokolade**

The sound of rustling papers the scratching of a pen were the only sounds that disturbed the silence in the neat office. A tall man with blue eyes and blond hair sat at a simple desk while he apparently did some type of paperwork. The window behind him, which was steadfastly closed, showed that outside there was a small snow flurry blowing through the area. No doubt it would become a full scale blizzard by the end of the night.

The man, known as Germany, or Ludwig to those close to him, was unperturbed by the growing storm, however. Instead he was thoroughly intent on his work. If one cared to look long enough, they would be able to see the tell-tale signs of stress. For instance, his eyebrows were furrowed, the corners of his mouth drew down into a tired frown, and his eyes were just the tiniest bit red, which indicated that he had been working for quite some time without a break. He most undoubtedly needed a rest, but the stubborn set of his shoulders and his unfaltering writing left no questions as to whether he would willingly stop.

Of course, key word being willingly.

Just at that moment, the door to the neat office suddenly burst open, causing Germany to look up at the unexpected intrusion. Standing at the door, shivering, was an average sized man (little in comparison to Germany), with light brown hair and big, brown eyes. He had a strange curl poking out the side of his head as well, which, remarkably, seemed to be shivering also. He was wearing only a thin maroon sweater and dress pants that could not have been very thick. This man was none other than Northern Italy, most commonly referred to as Italy, and Feliciano to his friends.

Germany only had the time to stand up before Italy was running at him, throwing his arms out wide as he flung himself at the muscular blonde.

"GERMANYYYYY!"

Germany easily caught the near hysterical Italian, and reflexively cradeld him in his arms as he looked questioningly down at his lover. "Feliciano? What are you doing here?"

Italy gazed up at him with big, teary eyes, and Germany was suddenly under fire by a torrent of words.

"Well, I wanted to see you today, like I really really _really_ needed to see you because I haven't seen you in _weeks_ because of my boss and stupid work, and my heart felt all heavy and sad, so I went to your house through Switzerland because I knew that it was the fastest way to get to Germany and I REALLY wanted to see you and~"

"Wait, Feliciano, did you go out in this weather? In that?" Germany halted the brunet as he frowned at him in concern, glancing quickly out the window at the steadily growing gale. Italy nodded his head quickly, opening his mouth to speak again.

"Yes because I didn't know that it was like this, if I had known I would have worn something thicker, or maybe I would've called you and asked you to pick me up, but I DIDN'T know it was going to be this cold, Ludwig, and I really just wanted to see you soooo badly! I even didn't mind when Switzerland shot at me, because I would be over here soon and be able to hug you and kiss you.~" At last Italy seemed to have said all that he needed to say, and instead he settled for doing what he had aimed to do since he'd first set out from his home; he leaned up and kissed Germany fully on the lips for a good few seconds, and then he withdrew and snuggled closer to Germany's chest, smiling as he did so and humming contentedly.

Gazing down at his boyfriend and processing everything that had just spewed forth from his mouth (Really, Italy never seemed to breathe when he was talking; it was all one big run-on sentence!), Germany absent-mindedly stroked his hair, staying away from the almost sentinent curl. He knew that Italy wasn't all that fond of cold weather. He hardly even had any, especially compared to the type of winter weather that Germany experience. Winters in Northern Italy tend to be cool and humid; oftentimes it'll rain, but hardly ever snow. That was just part of the territory when you were a mediterranean country. In Germany, however, there was a consistent amount of all weather. Rain, snow, sunshine, and wind all took their respective turns throughout the year. The winters were cold, of course, but there weren't usually any periods of prolonged snow or frost. However, this was one of those rare times when Germany was expecting a snowstorm to hit. It wouldn't last very long, thankfully, but it was enough to last a couple of days. Even though Germany's weather was mild compared to more northern nations, he knew that it would be biting cold to his Italy.

Sighing, Germany pulled away from Italy and, ignoring his pout, he said in a tone that brooked no arguement (basically his normal voice), "Look, Feliciano, this weather is going to last for a couple of days at most. During that time, I think that you should remain here, since I don't really want you out in this at all."

"Really? I get to stay with Ludwig for two whole days?" When Germany nodded, Italy's face broke out into his normal bright smile. "Incredibile! Sono così felice!* We're going to have so much fun, Ludwig~" Italy nearly sang, even doing a little happy dance that made Germany unable to not smile at his cuteness. "We haven't been able to spend this much time together in a long time, so you shouldn't do any work while I'm here!"

Should've been expecting that one. Italy was much smarter than he let most of the other nations believe. Secretly, Germany was very proud of his little Italian. He also knew that, in this situation, Italy was right. They _hadn't_ seen each other in a while (something Germany tried to distract himself from by burying himself in his work). They needed to have this time alone together, if only for them to relax and then get right back to work. Which is what Germany would definitely be doing, but Italy...Well, he would just go back to doing what he normally does, which consisted of everything **but** work.

Nodding his head in agreement, Germany allowed a small chuckle to slide past his lips. "All right, no work. Just you and me." Italy beamed even brighter, and latched onto Germany once again.

"Yayyyy! Oh, what are we going to do first?" Here Italy paused, and brought up a hand to rub against his chin to think, a habit he had picked up from Germany over the years. Suddenly, he perked up, and started jumping up and down excitedly. "Oh, OH! I know!"

"What is it, Feliciano?" Germany asked in amusement. Although he didn't know what had just occurred to his lover, he knew that it would all be explained in time, and really, he was used to this sort of thing.

Stopping his mini-celebration, Italy turned and grinned eagerly up at the German. "Oh, you'll find out soon! But, I need you to go start a fire in your fireplace first, I saw that you didn't have one going when I ran into your house."

"What's the point of leaving a fire going when there's no one in there with it to use the warmth? That's just an unnecessary hazard," Germany stated, raising an eyebrow at Italy's antics. Did he leave fires going randomly around his house. Actually, when he thought about it, he was sure that if Italy had a fireplace and it was any sort of weather besides hot, he would definitely leave a fire going all throughout the day.

Shaking his head, Italy smiled once again. "No, this time you'll be sitting in there with it until I join you. Then you'll know what we're doing."

Knowing that there was no use arguing with him (and he couldn't really do so anyway, since it would be just plain mean to refuse a request that was put forth so nicely and without any real reasons for doing so) Germany went to his sitting room. It was a medium sized room in the middle of the house that he kept a lot of books and various paintings in. It had a large fireplace, with a nicely kept hearth, courtesy of Germany's usual orderly habits. It had one large well worn couch, with a couple of armchairs near the fireplace. By the right end side of the couch stood a little wooden end table that had been bought from Sweden years ago. There was a medium sized rug covering the wooden floor in front of the hearth, and it too was well worn. Everything was in good condition, of course, they were just...lived in. They gave off a feeling of comfort, and people subconciously relaxed.

Germany placed logs from a nearby basket into the fire, along with some kindling. Then he took some flint (he knew he could use a lighter, but sometimes he felt like doing it the old fashioned way, like he used to) and struck them together. It only took him a couple of strikes to get a spark that quickly caught onto the kindling, and from there spread to the thick logs. Standing up straight, Germany could already feel the heat spreading through the room in waves, which caused him to suddenly realize that he had been a bit chilled himself. Whatever Italy was up to, he just hoped that it could be done in here, where it was bound to get very warm.

Since he didn't know how long Italy would take, Germany walked over to one of the four bookshelves in the room. Running his fingers along the spines of the many gathered books, Germany eventually settled on one that was larger than the others with a worn (Many things that the nations owned were worn) leather binding. Pulling it out revealed it to be a photo-album. Germany carried it with him over to the couch, and began flicking through its pages, pausing for a few seconds to examine each one and the pictures it held.

On the very first page there was a small portrait of a little boy with blond hair and blue eyes. He was wearing lederhosen, which was German for leather breeches. The boy looked almost shy, as if he wasn't sure about how he was supposed to react to his portrait being drawn. Next to him stood a man that was his opposite in every way, except for the fact that you could see the similarities in their facial structures. This man had white hair, with deep red eyes and a confident smirk that easily betrayed how confident he was in his abilities. (A front, the man was in actuality sort of self-concious, though he made up for it by being extremely loud and arrogant around others.) He was wearing a blue outfit that had to be military in nature. He seemed to have no care in the world, and his arm was wrapped around the little boy tightly, who looked relieved to have that comfort.

Germany sighed lightly as he saw the picture of himself and his brother Prussia. Currently, Prussia was over at Spain's house, visiting him and France. He hoped Romano was there; at least if the grumpy Italian was there, they wouldn't do anything illegal. Most likely.

Flipping to another page, he saw another sight that brought back memories. There, at a table, were seated four people. One was Germany himself as he looks now, although considerably less tired and almost fresh faced. Beside him was Prussia, wearing his normal blue military clothes, with an arm slung casually across the back of a chair in which sat a beautiful woman. She had long brown hair, and had a flower placed casually in it. She was wearing a green dress with an apron type deal over it, with a red bow on the top near her neck. She had green eyes, and seemed to be irritated with the albino next to her. Finally, there was the last member of the group. He looked very aristcratic in nature, with his purplish blue coat and white undershirt. He had very dark brown hair, possibly black, and was wearing glasses. He also had a little mole near the left side corner of his mouth. His face looked disgruntled, as if he too didn't particularly want to be near Prussia. Truly, Germany couldn't blame Hungary and Austria. His brother was a bit of a handful sometimes. Or most of the time.

He was interrupted from further reminiscing when he heard the door open and close behind him. Germany placed the photo album on the end table as he heard the padding of Italy's feet approach him. When he looked up at his lover, he was surprised to see his arms full. Italy was holding a large folded blanket under one arm, and two mugs of something steaming and sweet smelling in each hand.

Italy walked over to Germany and handed him one of the mugs, smiling fondly as he did so. Germany sniffed it, then took a quick sip.

"Heiße Schokolade?" Germany asked, not really surprised. He raised an eyebrow at his lover, who nodded happily.

"I assume that means hot chocolate, so yes. In Italian we say 'Cioccolata Calda'," Italy said amiably, somehow managing to sit on the couch right next to Germany, pull the thick blanket over the both of them, and **not **spill his hot chocolate. Needless to say, Germany was impressed, although he couldn't help but wonder where this skill was during training.

"What do you want us to do?" Germany asked, sliding his left arm around Italy's waist and drawing him closer. Italy snuggled into Germany's side and giggled contentedly.

"This. Just this," Italy said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. Then, before Germany could react, he reached up and placed a lingering kiss on Germany's lips. When he pulled back, he grinned cheekily. "And a little of that."

Germany smiled- a wide smile filled to the brim with happiness- and, despite the blush on his cheeks, he leaned down and pressed a kiss of his own to the Italian's lips. "That sounds like a great idea."

And that was how the two spent the rest of the evening, just sitting in front of the warm fire, drinking hot chocolate, and snuggling underneath a warm blanket.

Although they did have a pasta break.

I used three different languages for the title of this story. They were Italian, German, and Spanish. Of course you know what the two phrases mean (hot chocolate), and the 'o' is Spanish for 'or'. Initially it was only going to be Italian, but then I thought that it wouldn't be fair to Germany, so I was like, "Compromise." I used Spanish because I'm actually learning that language, so I understand it better than Italian and German. Although I can't yet speak it very well, I'm getting to where I can read it almost fluently. ^_^ If you speak German or Italian and noticed any mistakes, please correct me. I will make sure to go back and change it.

*Incredibile! Sono così felice! = Amazing! I am so happy!


End file.
